


Laser Tag: The Best (Worst) Team-Bonding Activity

by jadeopal



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Everything is happy and okay, Humor, Laser Tag, M/M, Natasha is also a laser tag BAMF, Peter is a laser tag BAMF, Wade is dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadeopal/pseuds/jadeopal
Summary: Guys why are there so many Avengers. I had to legit make a list and keep it in view the entire time I was writing this fic to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anyone, and I’m pretty sure I still ended up neglecting way too many of them (coughWandacoughSamcoughVisioncough).Also, the LaserQuest they visit in this fic exists. It is the only laser tag place I have ever been to, and it is Canadian, and there’s no way its rickety structures would be able to withstand some of the stuff that goes on in this fic, but just pretend. (I have drawn on my own laser tag experiences to lend this fic a sense of realism. For example, the sticking to ceilings and flipping off walls. Those are all things I have done in laser tag before. 100%, no lie. Really.)Anyway, I wrote this based on the following prompt by vicktick in the Spideypool Discord server:"Totally a crack prompt but the avengers and co go laser tagging. And peter and wade are on different teams and it’s an all out battle royale. Wade is convinced he and his team will win cause he is the best marksman in the world but peter gives him a run for his money with his flip wizard jumping skills and speed. Lots of shit talking."This ended up being way more Avengers-centric than I expected, but they do what they do, I guess. Attention-seekers, the whole lot of them. It’s okay though, we still got in some decent Spideypool moments after all.





	Laser Tag: The Best (Worst) Team-Bonding Activity

**Author's Note:**

> Guys why are there so many Avengers. I had to legit make a list and keep it in view the entire time I was writing this fic to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anyone, and I’m pretty sure I still ended up neglecting way too many of them (coughWandacoughSamcoughVisioncough).
> 
> Also, the LaserQuest they visit in this fic exists. It is the only laser tag place I have ever been to, and it is Canadian, and there’s no way its rickety structures would be able to withstand some of the stuff that goes on in this fic, but just pretend. (I have drawn on my own laser tag experiences to lend this fic a sense of realism. For example, the sticking to ceilings and flipping off walls. Those are all things I have done in laser tag before. 100%, no lie. Really.)
> 
> Anyway, I wrote this based on the following prompt by vicktick in the Spideypool Discord server:
> 
> "Totally a crack prompt but the avengers and co go laser tagging. And peter and wade are on different teams and it’s an all out battle royale. Wade is convinced he and his team will win cause he is the best marksman in the world but peter gives him a run for his money with his flip wizard jumping skills and speed. Lots of shit talking."
> 
> This ended up being way more Avengers-centric than I expected, but they do what they do, I guess. Attention-seekers, the whole lot of them. It’s okay though, we still got in some decent Spideypool moments after all.

“I didn’t know that FanExpo was this weekend.”

The worker’s lips tugged up in a smirk as she eyed the ragtag group in front of her. It included: two men in metal suits; one man with all-red skin; an alarming number of people in all-leather outfits; and more people in spandex unitards than was entirely appropriate.

It was not the sort of thing you’d normally see in a tiny LaserQuest in the middle of Suburbian Hell, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. The gaggle of gawking teenagers standing behind the oddly-dressed group seemed to agree.

“Fan....Expo?” one man with a dark, tightly curled hair questioned. (He was part of Group C: Leather Fetish.)

“Perhaps it is a ritual holiday in this land!” another man with lucious golden locks boomed. (He was part of Group E: Still Oddly Dressed But Thankfully None Of The Above.) “Lord Pool has already recounted to me several of the proud traditions of this land, including the worship of a deity known as the Maple Syrup—”

“Um, sorry. Yeah. Can we just have fourteen people for laser tag?” A short man, face twisted in what looked like perpetual apology (he was one of the only normally-dressed people in the group, with his battered tee and grungy jeans) forced his way to the front. He slid a credit card across to the worker, who was still looking the group over with obvious glee, and gave an apologetic grimace. “Sorry about them, they’re, uh... They’re not used to normal human interaction?”

“Don’t forget who’s paying for all of this, Banner!” one of the metal suits (Group A; the red one) said, its voice a little buzzy and staticky, and the short man grimaced again.

“Yeah. Not used to normal human interaction.”

The worker stared at him. Then back out at the rest of the group. Then she shrugged and took the credit card. After all, they were only a hop, a skip, and an hour’s subway ride from downtown; she’d seen weirder.

“So, are you looking to play just one game today, or are you going for our three-game deal?”

“Three games, please and thank you,” the man said, and they carried on their very usual, very normal business chatter as the group carried on in their mildly chaotic manner.

A woman with a shock of red hair (Group C) and a man with gentle blue eyes and lines all over his face (also Group C) conferred quietly together, off to the side. A man in blue and white stripes with a shield strapped to his back (Group D: Spandex, Why) wandered off to the small cluster of arcade games in the corner. Another man, whose arm gleamed as though it’d been covered in metallic paint (Group C), wandered off to join him.

And at the back of the room, two men in red spandex (Group D. Oh lord, _so_ Group D) were arguing.

“C’moooooooon, Petey, don’t be such a Victorian lady.”

“Stop it, Wade,” the smaller man grumbled, trying to keep the larger man from clambering all over him like a squirrel climbing up a particularly unenthusiastic tree. He wasn’t very successful. “Wade, stop — I said _stop!_ The other Avengers are _right there!_ ”

Indeed, the man in the red metal suit had turned and was facing them so intently that it could only be assumed he was glaring at them from under his mask.

The larger spandex-suited man was undeterred. “Pshh, it’s not like we’re gonna _offend_ them or anything, not after last Thursday. Boy was it a surprise when they walked in on us—”

“ _Wade!_ ” the smaller man hissed, much more frantically this time. The larger man just continued to grope at his torso and make smoochy noises next to his face. “There are _kids!_ ”

“Eh what, those mini humans? Naaaaaah, don’t worry about them, when I was that small I already knew about—”

“ _Wade!_ ”

“Wade!” Banner called from the counter. “Pe— sorry, Spider-man! Come on, you need to get your tokens and tell them your codenames.”

“Thank god,” the red metal-suited man muttered as Spider-man strode determinedly by, dragging Wade along the ground behind him with every step he took. “I was afraid I’d see something I’d never be able to unsee. There is not enough bleach in the _world._ ”

The red-haired woman in black leather snorted. “Just be glad you weren’t there on Thursday.” The metal-suited man nodded fervently in agreement.

“This is the only time I’m going to say this, but thank god for press conferences.”

Meanwhile, at the counter, Wade was whining, “How come my stick’s a different colour than Spidey’s? I want a red stick, too! A real _big_ red stick if you know what I—”

“So sorry about that,” Spider-man said to the girl at the counter, and she was certain that if he were to take off his mask, he would have bright red cheeks to go along with the fluster in his voice. “He’s not usually this bad in public. Well, he is, but — Well — I’m so sorry for him.”

“Am I your _dirty little secret?_ ” Wade whispered into Spider-man’s ear, and the girl gave an awkward laugh and asked for Spider-man’s codename. She may have been to downtown Toronto before, but for all that she’d heard things before and would probably hear them again, she didn’t have to _like_ hearing them.

Spider-man dragged Wade off to the side, where Wade continued whispering into his ear loudly enough that the girl could hear every uncomfortable word he said as she checked in the rest of the group.

God, working in customer service sucked.

<3

“All right,” the worker said once they’d all gathered in the briefing room to be given the game rules and instructions. (Getting all fourteen Avengers into that room had been not unlike trying to herd a bunch of unruly sheep into a single pen.) “So, since you’re a pretty large group, you’re going to be playing this game yourselves. Does everyone have their tokens?”

She held up a fluorescent green plastic stick. After a moment of fumbling, all the Avengers held theirs up as well. Natasha produced hers from some unknown pocket of her suit. Thor lifted his triumphantly and then opened his mouth to let out a battle roar, before T’Challa stuffed his fist in his mouth to stop the noise from escaping. Wade held his green token up, then tried to take advantage of the distraction to nibble on the back of Peter’s neck. He got a smack to the face for his troubles.

“All right, awesome. You’ll notice that some of you have red tokens and some of you have green ones. Well, with large groups like this, we like to split you up into two teams. So everyone with a green—”

“ _Noooooooooo!_ ” Wade gasped, cutting off the worker before she could continue on her rehearsed speech. “What, Spidey and I are gonna be on opposite teams? You can’t do that! He’s gonna have an unfair advantage — I could never bring myself to shoot my precious baby boy!”

The girl opened her mouth to retort. Peter beat her to it.

“Psh. You couldn’t land a shot on me if you tried.”

Wade had just been winding up for another extended melodramatic speech about Oh The Tragedy Of Our Star-Crossed Love. Peter’s words drew him to a screeching halt.

Slowly, he turned to face his precious baby boy.

“Dick-measuring contest,” Wanda whispered to Natasha. Natasha snorted in what could only be agreement.

“Say that again, Spidey?”

“I said, like you could land a shot on me anyway. You might want to get your hearing checked before we go in, because you’re going to need all the help you can get if you don’t want to get _beaten into dust_ in this match.”

“Ooh.” Tony whistled. “You tell ‘im, kid.”

The whites of Wade’s mask narrowed. The worker looked up at the clock, looked over at the slowly brewing tension, and decided to let the fight go on for just a bit longer.

“Um, hello? Merc with a mouth here. I’ve taken down more people than you could _count_ , baby boy.”

“Sorry, did you say something? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my impending victory.”

Wade crossed his arms over his chest. Peter mirrored his stance, and quirked an eyebrow.

“Betcha three orgasms that my team _buries_ yours.”

“Add in a week’s worth of takeout and you’ve got a deal,” Peter countered.

Natasha held up her token, which was just as fire hydrant red as Peter’s. “I will contribute a day of playing personal maid for the winning team to the bet.”

“Hey, I didn’t agree to that,” Bruce objected, clutching his red token in a steadily tightening grip. He was ignored.

“Oh, yeah?” Tony stepped up and cocked his head at Natasha, who cocked her head right back at him. “Drinks on me at our next night out, _or_ my drinks on all of _you_ losers for the next _year_.”

“Seconded!” piped up Clint, and:

“I will support that wager!” thundered Thor. Both held up their radioactive green tokens with Tony.

This was starting to get a bit out of hand, the worker decided, but before she could speak up and regain control, they kept on going.

“Fine, fine, I’ll get in on this bet,” Steve laughed, and raised his red token. “A month of press coverage, how about that?”

So naturally Bucky had to speak up too. “ _Two_ months of dealing with SHIELD.” The two soldiers exchanged electrifying glares.

“Losers have to do winners’ paperwork for a month,” Sam contributed, tossing his red token into the air, and T’Challa said, “Two months,” and waved about his green token.

“A bottle of the finest Russian vodka,” Wanda decided, and lifted her green token like a challenge.

“I... will abstain from the wager,” Vision decided, when all eyes turned to him.

“Same,” Rhodey said, clapping his fellow red-tokened friend on the shoulder, and then muttered under his breath, “I bet we’re not gonna be able to get out of the bets though, god _damn_ , Spider-man, what’ve you gotten us all into.”

“Me?” Peter said, affronted. “Don’t look at me! It’s all Wade’s fault! You heard what he said!”

Wade smirked at him and quirked a finger his way. “C’mere, Spidey, lemme give you one last smooch before we go in and my team kicks your butts.”

“Save the kissing for afterward,” Peter shot back, “your ego’s gonna need to be kissed better after the bruising it’ll get in this game.”

“I can think of _something_ that’s gonna get bruised tonight—”

“Ew, gross!” Wanda shouted, lifting her arms in an aborted attempt to cover her eyes. And ears. And everything. “Get a room!”

“All right, _everyone_ ,” and they fell silent just long enough to face the worker who was now standing with a pained grimace on her face. “The longer you spend arguing, the less play time you have, so if we could just move along?”

 _Gonna kick your asses,_ Tony mouthed at Natasha, drawing his finger across his throat. She scowled at him and made a rude gesture in reply.

“No problem,” Peter said aloud, and took a step back, ‘accidentally’ kneeing Wade in the gut as he moved away. “Sorry about that, what were you saying?”

<3

They suited up in the next room. There was a conspicuous gap in the middle of the room, where the red and green teams refused to meet.

Clint shrugged his vest on and aimed his gun at the wall, pulling the trigger a few times and watching where the laser landed. After a moment he turned to the worker. “Sorry, I think this laser’s broken.”

“Let me see,” she said, smiling so perfectly politely that it was almost enough to mask the current of God Please Why running through her voice. She took the gun from him, checked the display, pulled the trigger a few times, and then handed it back. “Nope, seems to be working just fine.”

“But the aim—”

“Sorry, it’s just the way the lasers are built. Is everyone suited up?” she shouted out to the whole room before he could start arguing with her.

Wade seemed to be having similar problems with his laser, growling as he tried to sight along the top and aim at the wall. Thor was looking over his laser with great interest, jumping every time the laser beamed out of his gun and projected onto the ceiling. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Peter was doing experimental flips holding the gun in one hand, holding down the dangling bits of the vest with the other. Natasha was doing something to her laser holster to tie it down so it wouldn’t jostle against her legs as she walked. Steve was standing patiently by the door, waiting for further instruction.

The worker looked at the gaggle of Avengers, half of them trying to figure out their suits, half of them doing some serious spy-level shit with the clunky plastic lasers. She was so _done_ with them all, she thought, and slapped the button to begin the game.

“You have twenty seconds to get inside before your shots start to count!” she shouted, and immediately there was a stampede toward the door. “Good luck!”

She ended up with fourteen tokens in her hand, once they were all through the doors, so whatever, close enough, she decided.

For twenty seconds, things were relatively silent. The electric beeping of the countdown, plus the occasional fall of a heavy footstep or curse from an unseen form, were the only sounds in the vast area. Pop music played softly in the background; all was still.

Then there was a long, final beep to signal the end of the countdown, and. Well. The only accurate way to describe what happened next would be:

All hell broke loose.

<3

The maze was pitch-black, a maze of rickety walls twisting and turning in every which way, all crammed up together so you could hardly tell which way to turn. Tony had decided, like any poor strategist, to stick to the low ground. Taking the high ground was the coward’s way out, he told himself as he creaked his way past a narrow ramp leading to the higher levels.

He took three steps past an opening between the walls, and then heard a whirring kind of _won won won_ sound. He looked down at his laser, which was flashing red and going dim; _You have been hit by Pudding!_ the display flashed up at him.

“Oh, _fuck me_ ,” he said aloud.

Only a short distance away, Natasha knelt down on the ground ( _“I will not crouch, jump, or run_ ,” they’d all sworn at the beginning of the game; Natasha had mouthed the words, fingers crossed behind her back, without the slightest hint of remorse). Her all-black outfit blended in perfectly with the shadows, so only the glow of her vest and laser could be seen as she checked the display on her laser gun.

 _You have hit Yourself,_ it flashed cheerily up at her.

“Fucking Stark,” she muttered to herself, and rose just enough to peer through the opening in the wall for the next green team member to target.

<3

Bruce was making his timid way down a hallway, clutching his laser gun tightly to his chest, when there was a heavy fall of footsteps behind him. He whirled around, a scream rising in his throat, and blasted his gun wildly into the darkness: _pew pew,_ went his gun, _pew pew, pew pew,_ and then _won won woooon_ as his gun and suit both flashed red and powered down.

He clutched his gun to his chest, heart hammering away. _You have been hit by Sharpshooter_ , it tried to tell him, but he wasn’t looking, too focused on trying to calm his heart rate.

“This is the last time I agree to any of Tony’s ‘team-building activities’,” he muttered to himself, and reached up to wipe off his forehead before creeping forward again, a ready, sweaty target for the next member of the green team to hit.

<3

Up on the second level, where the real strategists all were, Clint and Bucky were arguing amongst themselves.

“No — no, look, I hit Bruce already,” Clint argued, and sure enough, his laser displayed a proud _You have hit Green Laser_ for the world to see. “We can’t have two people in one tower, that’d be a too easy target. Find your own sniper tower.”

“This one is _perfectly located_ though,” Bucky argued back. Not only did the windows offer a perfect view of nearly the entire playing area, but the only two walkways leading up to their area were long and uncovered, making it easy to catch anyone trying to sneak up on the snipers. Plus there were enough unbroken sections of wall to hide from anyone who may try to shoot back. It was the perfect sniping location — too bad the two green team snipers weren’t willing to share.

“Okay, listen, I was here first, so you can go and find your own sniping tower—”

“You were here first? _I_ was here first! You just followed me here—”

They argued in furious, soft whispers, too engaged in their own conversation to notice the featherlight footsteps behind them. They did, however, hear the _pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew_ of someone going trigger-happy behind them, and both turned around just in time for their lasers and suits to go red.

 _You have been hit by The Quiet One_ , both their lasers admonished up at them.

“Fuck yeah!” Sam shouted into the void moments later, as he sprinted away before the snipers could follow. (Natasha wasn’t the only one who’d held her silence when the others had been reciting the Player’s Code of Conduct.) “Suck on that, losers!”

His laser went red and whined in defeat moments later, flashing in quick succession, _You have been hit by Bucky_ and _You have been hit by Sharpshooter,_ almost too fast to read.

“Damn,” he whined, and before his suit had even powered back up, was hit in quick succession by two more lasers, aimed directly at his chest.

<3

Vision was wandering the halls of the maze, fairly confused.

This was the first time he had played a game of laser tag. He wasn’t entirely sure what the point was. Was it meant to be a simulation of a battlefield? That seemed a bit morbid for a game that, according to the marketing material, was intended for youth aged as low as 12.

He turned a corner and ran smack-dab into a familiar head of red hair.

“Wanda!” he exclaimed, and Wanda peered back up at him in shock.

“Vision?” Her mouth, which had fallen open in surprise when they’d first made contact, now curled up into a soft smile. “Vision, I’ve been looking all over for—”

They both raised their guns and fired at the exact same moment. Red light. Then darkness. _Won won won._

 _You have been hit by Nifty Ninja,_ Wanda’s laser told her, even as Vision’s told him that _You have been hit by Scarlet Witch._

“Sorry,” Wanda told him, lips crooked upward in what was definitely a smirk. “All’s fair in war.”

“Oh, it is _on,_ ” he told her, and dashed after her as she dashed away, peals of laughter splitting through the darkness.

<3

T’Challa had taken a more...direct approach to the battle.

 _I will not touch another player,_ the Code of Conduct had said, but all codes of conduct had flown straight from his head the moment he’d stepped onto the battlefield. This was war, and war would wait for no man’s code.

Also he really didn’t want to do the other Avengers’ paperwork for two months. He wasn’t even technically a member of the Avengers team, dammit. Hell if he was going to get roped into doing their work for them.

Just now, he was creeping up on Rhodey, who was far too noticeable in his gleaming silver suit. Normally Rhodey would have probably seen the light of T’Challa’s vest long before T’Challa could get so close. It was fortunate, then, that T’Challa had turned his vest inside-out moments after stepping on the battlefield, and was now holding his laser just behind his back, where it could hardly be seen.

This would be an easy kill, T’Challa thought to himself. Rhodey was too strong in his suit to be disarmed, so T’Challa would just take a quick shot now. During the five seconds it took for Rhodey’s suit to reboot, he would hide and evade, staying close enough to be within easy shot of the metal-suited man, but far enough that he wouldn’t be seen; then he would dart in, shoot again, dart back out and wait for the next safe time to approach. Wash, rinse, repeat.

He’d just lifted his gun to send off the first shot when there was a _pew pew_ sound from somewhere above him, and his laser flashed red and blared a loud _won won won_.

 _You’ve been shot by Stevie_ , he could just barely make out on his gun’s display before Rhodey whirled around and blasted a few dozen _pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew_ s into his chest.

“Play fair!” he heard Steve Rogers call from above him, and when he glanced up he could just see someone moving above the — fuck, the metal grate in the ceiling. “No covering up your sensors!”

“Dude, not cool,” Rhodey added in, and then sent off another barrage of shots at T’Challa when his laser powered back up.

 _You have been hit by Doctor Doom_ , his laser told him, oddly reproachfully, and he knew that on Rhodey’s own laser it would say, _You have hit Shadow Striker._

T’Challa groaned and raised his arms in surrender. War would wait for no man’s code, but it seemed that Captain America wouldn’t abide the breaking of one. T’Challa could only hope that his other team members were doing better than him.

<3

Clint and Bucky were not doing so well over in their sniper’s tower. They’d found and gleefully shot Bruce a handful of times at the beginning, each razor-sharp shot landing with success, but it seemed that had been a lucky streak; their past few shots — at Bruce, Sam, Vision, and one red figure they thought might’ve been Peter — hadn’t been nearly as successful. Though their lasers appeared to be landing squarely on their targets’ chests, backs, or shoulders — or even, occasionally, their own lasers — there was no sound, no dying down of light, to signal that any of their shots were landing. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.

“I think there’s something wrong with the guns,” Clint hissed harshly at Bucky, who grunted in response.

“Hello, friends!”

They both turned and watched with horror as Thor plopped himself down beside them.

“Are you enjoying yourselves?” His voice boomed through the room. At this rate, it would be a matter of seconds — minutes, if they were lucky — before every red team member found and downed all three of them. “I have been amusing myself with the lights fired by this strange contraption — it makes sounds when you pull the trigger! See!”

He pulled the trigger with delight, sending a ray of red light up at the ceiling and broadcasting the _pew pew_ sound in all directions, even as both Clint and Bucky waved at him and urged him to “Shh, shh, quiet!”

Thor continued on, remorselessly cheerful. “Although I have not been able to discover why my excellent vest continues changing colours. It, too, makes sounds, though I have not yet been able to discover the cause. It will occasionally flash red and then make the sound—”

 _Won won won_ , went his suit, and then one after the other, Clint and Bucky’s suits followed.

“See!” Thor said, triumphant. “That sound! It is strange, is it not?”

Clint and Bucky looked gloomily down at their lasers. _You have been hit by Pudding_ , they were both informed.

“So much for this sniping tower,” Clint sighed, and rose to his feet to trudge away. Bucky followed close behind, leaving Thor behind to protest, “Wait! Friends! Where are you going? We were having the most excellent discussion—”

<3

Natasha looked down at her laser display. _You have hit Lightning Hammer,_ it told her, and she shook her head.

“Too easy,” she murmured to herself, “too easy,” and turned to search for her next target—

There was a _pew pew_ , and she flinched back, glancing instinctively down at her suit. Which stayed green.

Even though she was sure she’d seen a red laser hit her just seconds before.

At the very edge of her hearing, she heard a soft _thwish-wack_ , and then a red figure was dropping down in front of her, talking a mile a minute. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t hit you did I? Well I guess I did, but it didn’t count— I just saw you sitting there and I pulled the trigger before I recognized who you are— Shit, have you seen Wade anywhere? I’ve been looking all over for him, you’d think he’d be easy to find considering how loud he usually is—”

Suddenly he stopped and cocked his head to one side. After a moment of silence he announced, “Sorry about that again, Natasha, just get right back to what you were doing—”

And then he lifted his arm, there was another _thwish-wack_ , and he went leaping off, vaulting over the nearest wall and disappearing from sight.

Natasha watched him go in silence. It was only moments before curses and _pew pew pew_ s rose up in the direction where he’d disappeared.

She shook her head, sent out a mental thanks that they were on the same team, and carried on.

<3

Throughout all the game thus far, Wade had been, as expected, carving a path of chaos through the maze. Surprisingly quiet chaos, though; it was atmospheric, he thought, and with all the flashing lights and shitty background music it almost felt like he was in a _spy thriller_ or something and he’d always wanted to be a spy, hadn’t he? This was his chance!

So he strolled his merry way through the maze, barely restraining himself from whistling as he went along, up and down the ramps and left and right through twists and turns, firing indiscriminately at any moving form he came across. Twice, he fired at a newly-activated fog machine. Once, at a sweeping red light mounted on the wall. Too many times at his own team members — Stark, memorably, a few times, but Wanda and Thor as well. Stark had shouted at him as he tossed out his casual apologies and carried on; Wanda had groaned over the sound of Vision’s vest, caught in the crossfire, powering down. Thor had given him a merry wave and let him continue on with nary a second word.

Wade found and hit the opposing team members too, of course — that was the whole point of the game! He had hit, to his recollection: the good ol’ Cap, many times; the Black Widow precisely once — _it really wasn’t fair that she was in all black though, how come she’d gotten the memo and no one else had?_ — pint-sized Hulk too many times for it to even be fun anymore; the wingless Hawk a dozen times more (Wade had snickered the first time _that_ name had flashed across his laser’s display, but had quickly gone back to business as normal, _where’s the next target, gonna pew-pew-pew shoot ‘em up~~~_ ); and discount Iron Man so many times he was honestly starting to get sick of it. Except he really wasn’t because he could _never_ get sick of shooting Iron Man, even if it was only a discount version. Seriously, after all the shit Stark had said to him and his Petey—

He was getting off-topic. The point was, they were already who-knew-how-many-minutes into the game, and he still hadn’t found his baby boy yet! His Petey Pie! His Spidey babies — okay that was veering off into Creepy Kink territory but the point was, all this time and he still hadn’t managed to come face-to-face with Peter Parker and show him the consequences of running off his big mouth one too many damn times. Wade couldn’t stand for that. He _wouldn’t_ . He’d find his Petey and then show him who was boss once and for all — _couldn’t land a shot on me if you tried_ ; pfffft, he’d show him, and feel no remorse about it too, even if he did have a minor heart attack at the very thought of firing a gun aimed in Petey’s direction — but this was a matter of _orgasms and take-out_. He’d just have to tell his heart to calm the fuck down long enough for him to find his Petey and give him a few good shots up the chest—

White eyes gleamed at him in the darkness. Big, ginormous, Spidey white eyes.

Wade and Peter stared at each other for a good few moments.

“Found you, Petey pie,” Wade said at last, and grinned as he lifted up his gun and opened fire.

<3

Did it count as an abuse of power if Peter was using his enhanced abilities to give himself a leg up in a laser tag game? He didn’t think so, he mused to himself as he leapt up and away from Wade’s errant laser shots. After all, it was no different than, say, Natasha taking advantage of her dark clothing to better hide herself from her opponents, or Bucky and Clint taking advantage of their sharpshooting abilities to snipe down targets. So: using his super-strength and spider-sense was totally fair. Yeah, yeah. For sure.

He jumped and flipped away from Wade’s shots, which were getting no closer to him than the first one had been — which was to say, _miles off_ — with one hand, keeping his laser clutched tight in his other hand, held tight to his chest as he waited for the perfect opportunity.

It appeared when he vaulted up to one of the exposed steel beams on the ceiling and stuck on, just long enough to see Wade spin around, trying to see where he’d gone, and expose his back. Perfect.

He raised the gun, fired off five shots. _Pew pew,_ again and again. Most of them missed, while a few hit the glowing circle on Wade’s back but didn’t trigger the sensor, so he kept shooting until he heard the triumphant:

_Won won won._

Then, and only then, did he flip back down beside Wade, who was staring at his dimmed gun as though it had betrayed him.

 _You have been hit by SPMN_ , Wade’s gun said, and Peter knew sure as anything that if he looked, his own gun would say, _You have hit DP <3 SPMN. _

Peter lifted his mask just enough to expose his lips, and pressed a quick kiss to Wade’s cheek.

“Thought you said you’d taken down more people than you could count?” he teased, and dropped his mask back down and jumped away before Wade could so much as lift his newly-lit gun.

 _Pew pew._ And that newly-lit gun went dim again.

This was _fun_.

<3

Okay, so Wade had finally found his most precious most beloved most darling baby boy, except not really, because although he’d seen his Spidey’s big white eyes peering at him over the wall, Petey just _wasn’t holding still_ long enough for Wade to make out exactly where he was. Which was upsetting Wade. Because he wanted to smoosh Petey in a big fat hug, obviously. Not because he was trying and failing to hit the glowy parts of Petey’s vest and gun. No sirree. Wade just had buckets of love overflowing his heart that he wanted to share with his adorable baby boy. His baby boy who _kept shooting him and then jumping away too quickly for Wade to shoot back._

“Awww, come on, baby boy,” he called out into the darkness, and fuck where the _fuck_ had Petey gone now, surely it couldn’t be this hard to lose someone strapped into a bright green glowing vest? He heard a _pew pew_ up above him and glanced up too late: Petey was there, hanging off the wall by five sticky fingertips — _no fair, bringing spidey powers to a laser fight!_ — but he was already jumping away again and Wade’s suit had already powered down once more and this was just _so not fair._

“Baby boy! C’mere, give your lovey-dovey DP a kiss, eh?” He whirled around, trying to catch a glimpse of Spidey’s glowing white eyes — or his glowing green vest — fuck, where _was_ that little scoundrel —

And then a pair of lithe arms wrapped tight around his waist, a plastic bulk pressed up against his back, and slim fingers pushed up at the bottom of his mask.

“Sure, since you asked nicely,” Peter teased into Wade’s ear, and planted a quick little flutter of a kiss on his lips — Wade was still turning, arm raising, to grab Peter and hold him in place to deepen the kiss — when Peter jumped away again and then —

 _Pew pew_ and his suit went dead.

“Consider it a preview of the three orgasms you’re going to owe me after this,” came Peter’s laughing voice from the darkness, and Wade totally blamed his gun for this. It was all his gun’s fault. Damn thing couldn’t shoot straight, hadn’t he said just as much when they’d all been suiting up? If his gun could just shoot straight he was _sure_ that his ass wouldn’t be getting trounced as thoroughly as it was now, no sirree.

Yeah, it was all his gun’s fault.

<3

When the scores came up on the screen in the lobby at the end of the game, they surprised: precisely no one.

Peter was in first place, what a shocker. Wade took a close second, if the distance from the Earth to the moon could be considered “close”. Natasha took a much closer third, this “close” being more of the Toronto to the US border variety. Following them were: Bucky; Clint; Sam; Steve; Tony; Rhodey; T’Challa; Wanda; Vision; Bruce; and then, in last place with a whopping zero points, Thor.

“Congratulations to the first place winner, SPMN,” the LaserQuest worker announced, and handed Peter his scorecard to general applause. Wade clapped the loudest, and when Peter came back to his side, tried to cop a feel of his Petey’s ass, only to have his hand slapped soundly away.

“Aw, come on,” Wade complained, even as his arm curled around Peter’s waist. “It was a celebratory ass-grab! You know, like _congrats on top score even though you totally cheated to get it, feel my soft fingers on your butt as a reward_?”

Peter snorted and head-butted Wade in the chin. “Yeah, right. You owe me three orgasms now, by the way.”

“Oh god, _paperwork,_ ” T’Challa whimpered off to the side, while Natasha, smirking, said, “I hope you’re all into cosplay because I’m going to need you to dress up appropriately for your days of servitude.”

“Can’t I wear my Iron Man suit instead?” Tony wheedled. “No? How about the maid uniform on top of the suit?”

“You bet I owe you three orgasms,” Wade growled into Peter’s ear as his grip on the smaller man tightened. “I’m gonna make those orgasms the best of your life—”

“So, when do you want to play your next game?” the worker asked them, and then they all fell silent. Stared at her. Swiveled around to stare at Bruce.

“Oh— Oh, yeah.” He gave them a nervous grin. “Yeah, they have a deal, see, three games for a discounted price, so.”

There was silence. A thoughtful, pondering sort of silence. A calm-before-the-storm kind of silence.

“Best two out of three?” Tony said aloud, and was drowned out by a chorus of “ _hell yeah_ ”s as the Avengers all stormed up to the counter for their rematch.

(It went mostly the same way as the first game.)

(The third game did, too.)

(But Peter did thoroughly enjoy his three orgasms. Even if Tony did walk in on the second of the bunch and then spend an hour lying on the couch, bemoaning his life, while the other Avengers sat around him, unimpressed, and reminded him that at least he hadn’t been there Thursday.)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes everyone totally ended up pairing off during the game. Yes that’s definitely an accurate representation of how laser tag goes. Yes I am a certified expert who has played many team laser tag games in the past. Yes I have won all of them and ended up top score thanks to my amazing acrobatic and precognitive danger-sensing abilities. Why are you doubting me?
> 
> (Also this was unbeta'ed so feel free to point out any errors you made. Comments are always appreciated!)


End file.
